


Midnight in the Thames

by InnerSpectrum



Series: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: It's the morning after when Sherlock nearly drowns while in pursuit of a suspect. Greg, John and Mycroft react...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138172
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	Midnight in the Thames

**Author's Note:**

> For the February 2021 Johnlock Prompt Challenge from ohlooktheresabee. Prompt: Swimming

“It was cold. Sod that, it was fucking freezing! -4 Celsius and the serious 17 mph wind was not helping. I know it was not Dimmock’s fault the murder suspect, Ray Barrow, somehow made a break for it, while being treated at St. Thomas Hospital. Those two were with me when the suspect slammed into me, knocking me down as he headed out into the night. Dimmock who was originally assigned to him and was waiting for us, came tearing out behind him seconds later and tripped over me. It made us realize it was Barrow on the run. Those two left us, still trying to get up from the floor. We were on the other side of the Thames not far from NSY. I called it in and the chase was on.

“Everything was fine until Golden Jubilee Bridge.

“The Thames itself may not freeze anymore, but the bridge is not aware of that fact. It had snowed earlier. The walkway on the bridge was icy. I could see Sherlock, John and Barrow had slowed down, trying not to fall but were still running. Barrow was three-quarters across, Sherlock was, say, two-thirds in and John about halfway by the time Dimmock, Constables Singh and Holloway, and I reached the top stairs, Queens Walk side, when the back-up I called for could be seen coming up from Victoria Embankment.

“At that point everyone was yelling. Barrow and Sherlock got into a scuffle. Barrow who had about fifteen centimeters and two stone over Sherlock somehow pushed him in his desperation to get away and he went over. Suddenly it was deadly silent in the shock of it. It seemed even the wind had stopped for a moment. John was not even two metres away and had just reached them. We all heard as Sherlock…made contact…with the water. Then all I heard was John’s scream pierce the night.”

Lestrade visibly shivered and pulled his coat tighter around himself. Though at the moment it felt as if his body would never know warmth again, that was not why he shivered. It was the memory of that raw anguished cry that ripped from John Watson’s throat when Sherlock went over the railing. Greg knew he would never forget that sound.

A dry and clean Greg sat in St. Bart’s several hours later and told his part of what happened. He knew Mycroft would have already heard the gist of the events from Dimmock and others. He also knew Mycroft would not have been satisfied until he heard it directly from them.

“I knew he was going to do it, Mycroft. I saw his face and I… _knew_. I was already reaching in one pocket for my phone to contact Waterloo and reaching in the other for my torch yelling as John climbed and went in after him.”

He will never say the words aloud, but Gregory Lestrade will go to his grave knowing in his heart that John Watson was either going to rise out of the Thames with Sherlock Holmes in tow…or he was not going to rise out at all.

But he did not have to say the words, Mycroft knew.

“You went after him, after them both.”

“Yes.” He admitted. “Several had reached where we were on the bridge by then. The two constables had Barrow who I had completely forgotten about. Everyone else had their torches aimed at the river to give them something to aim towards. Still, it was the Thames, in the middle of night, during an unusually cold winter. John had been down there in that dark freezing river for what seemed like forever. When he finally popped up with Sherlock, you could tell he was struggling with the weight trying to get to the embankment. It did not occur to either of us to remove that bloody heavy arsed coat of your brother’s; it’s such a part of him, you know? I know how important Sherlock is to you, I didn’t think twice. I jumped.”

Pure fear and adrenaline had John perform CPR on Sherlock the moment all three men had made it to the embankment. Just as he knows he will never forget the sound of John’s screams; he will also never forget how the doctor turned Sherlock to the recovery position and then burst into relieved tears as he held Sherlock close. All three were in stages of hypothermia by the time Waterloo Lifeboat Rescue reached them.

Mycroft and Anthea were at St. Bart’s within an hour of their arrival with pyjamas and a change of clothes.

“It was foolhardy and much appreciated, given the alternative. Still, you should know by now Sherlock is not the only person important to me, Gregory.” Mycroft spoke softly. “I could have lost three of you to the Thames last night...”

Gregory, who had been looking down, raised his head at the unexpected revelation. Before he could respond, a familiar voice spoke from the bed.

“Oh, I really _do not_ want to be witness to the sentiment that is about to unfold. Where’s John?”

Greg and Mycroft looked over to see an awake Sherlock looking at them. 

“Oh, good you’re awake.” Mycroft ignored the snark, reached into a pocket and handed Sherlock a small box. “After your unexpected dip in the Thames, he is taking a much-needed shower. Understandably your clothes were ruined and had to be binned. Your new phones are on their way. Your respective wallets and accoutrements that could be saved are in the drawer, but I did not think you’d want _that_ just lying around.”

Sherlock frowned as he looked at the small velvet box and opened it. “This is not mine.”

“It was found in your inside lower right coat pocket along with your sleuth kit.” Mycroft explained.

“Nevertheless, I have never seen this.” Sherlock closed the box.

“Doesn’t stop it from being yours.” A freshly showered and dressed John Watson entered the room.

“What?” “Ooh!” “I see…” Sherlock, Greg and Mycroft spoke at once.

“The best way to hide something from you is to put it on the one place you wouldn’t search. You. Not going to be able to do that trick again.” John closed the door and approached the bed. “You’d have spotted it, if I had kept it on me. I purposely offered to hang your coat so I could slip it inside when we went to Angelo’s for dinner last night.”

Greg understood what was about to happen. He had started to grab Mycroft’s arm so they could give the two men privacy, but John waved a hand that indicated for them to stay seated as he continued speaking.

“Once back at Baker Street I was waiting for midnight. We were both on our laptops when I accidentally became a conductor of light again. Next thing I knew you were on your phone with Greg about Barrow and then all _this_ happened. When we got here at Bart’s, my only thought was your survival and you not waking up in here alone. It’s only while I was in the shower just now that I finally remembered. I was going to ask Mycroft privately if he secured it because who else would have our things?” John turned and looked at Mycroft.

"Being in Sherlock's coat, it never occurred to me it was _from_ you, not for you.” Mycroft responded to John.

Greg and Mycroft looked to each other as John tenderly held Sherlock's hand. 

“Oh, I really _do not_ want to be witness to the sentiment that is about to unfold. At least I won’t have to wait until the end of the week for an announcement.” Mycroft stood.

“Piss off!” John gave Mycroft a dirty look, which seemed to amuse the Iceman. Greg knew there was a story behind that and was determined to ask about it soon. For now, he stood with Mycroft and headed for the door.

“You said you were waiting for midnight. Why midnight?” a surprised Sherlock finally spoke.

This time, with eyes back on Sherlock, John did not stop them from leaving.

“Because you absolutely _hate_ today and however sickeningly sentimental I know it will be, I wanted to give you one reason to like it just a little.” John opened the velvet box. 

“Really John? On Valentine's Day?” Sherlock dramatically whined.

"After our midnight dip? Especially today..." John teased and held out the ring to him, “…Marry me, Sherlock.”

"That was _not_ a question, John." Sherlock sniffed haughtily, then his voice softened, “but the answer is _Yes_.”

“And too late.” Greg grinned.

Mycroft mocked groaned and closed the door on the sight of the two happy men kissing. “Can I offer you a ride home?”

“Yes, after that refreshing swim in the Thames last night all I want to do is to stand under my scalding shower for the next ten years until I feel warm again.”

“I’ve heard some time in a heated pool can do wonders. I offer a private swim at my townhouse.”

“Thanks, but no,” Gregory shook his head, “I don’t have another change of clothes on me nor own a pair of swim trunks for that matter.”

Mycroft flicked his cool eyes over Greg as he stopped to put on his coat. “I have a washer and dryer for the things you’re wearing.”

Gregory stopped mid-step and raised a brow as he remembered Mycroft's words, “And for the things I’m _not_ wearing?

"Wonderful Valentine's Day memories for us both...?" Mycroft smiled and started walking again.

Gregory did not go home.


End file.
